Word: mawkishly
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Dates: during 1950-1959
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...remake, splashed with incongruously cheery color, has the phony patina of Palm Springs. The sets and scenery (some of it filmed in Bavaria) suggest a Victor Herbert operetta rather than German bourgeois society. And the hardbitten, even morbid truths hammered home in the German version become soft and mawkish half-truths under the hand of Hollywood's Edward Dmytryk, who has consented to a happy ending that makes the teacher's tragedy merely pathetic...
These dangers of Nouveau decoration, unessential detail and "beautification," can be found throughout the works of the minor artists who derived their inspiration directly from the decorative school. Not only is Peter Behren's The Kiss a shamelessly mawkish print, but almost the entire picture surface is covered by the grotesque stylized tresses of the lovers' hair...
...magazine field, the American Mercury has done a flip-flop from the iconoclastic days of H. L. Mencken, and in September 1957, a strongly worded article entitled "Harvard Betrays its Heritage" appeared under the byline of Harold Lord Varney, managing editor. Criticizing the Harvard Corporation for its "mawkish tolerance of communism," Varney spoke of "intellectual mushiness," and concluded that the College had "fallen into an era of little men and little men and little safety haunted minds at the Harvard summit...
...calculated crowd rouser-a program of highlights that gave the company's stars a chance to display whatever muscles they had failed to flex earlier. There were a few quiet numbers-a beautifully danced version of Fokine's Les Sylphides (called Chopiniana by the Russians), an embarrassingly mawkish pantomime called A Blind Woman, which Prima Ballerina Ulanova almost managed to make acceptable. But most of the evening was given over to acrobatics: spinning, headlong leaps into the arms of supporting male dancers; a vaulting lift in which Ballerina Struchkova balanced light as a gull on the arched chest...
...alone. Last week Modugno, glowing in a powder-blue tuxedo, weepily twanged his latest effort, Piove (It's Raining), at the annual San Remo Song Festival, walked off with the festival prize-no cash, but an Oscar-sized honor in a crooner-crazed land. This week Piove, a mawkish tale about lovers parting at a train station, flowed across the U.S. on hot platters pressure-cooked by Decca, is almost sure to be another smash hit for Modugno. He freely admits that his stuff is pure corn-on-the-sob, but happily asks: "Why not? Is not the heart...